


Of Rings and Marriages

by Ekevka



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, and its problems, no actual marriage ceremonies in this fic, possible OOC of both of them to be honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-29 00:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekevka/pseuds/Ekevka
Summary: Krennic wants to define his relationship better... or just end it.





	Of Rings and Marriages

The day was bad. Or, rather, the whole month or so: Krennic had completely lost sight of the proverbial light at the end of not so proverbial workload and could mark on calendar the last time he had met with Tarkin. 

_ I still remember when we did make an effort to live together, _ \- Krennic finished another report from Eadu and sighed. Galen did make the work go faster, but the reports just got bigger. - _ Maybe not together, but at least we were on one planet. _

Krennic absentmindedly fondled the ring on his right hand. Foolish homeworld tradition - he was quite certain that on Coruscant, not to mention Eriadu, rings were not considered marriage markers, but back on Lexrul they were and Krennic had a really hard time _ not _ misinterpreting Tarkin gifting him one. 

After all, Wilhuff would have plainly told him, now would he not?

The ring shone - old-fashioned silver band, one that cost a small fortune in upkeep, how typical of the Grand Moff! - and Krennic made up his mind. If Tarkin could not even make time to call, then the whole affair was off. 

Not that Krennic had anyone in mind - Galen had made his lack of romantic interest in males quite clear a _ long _ time ago, and there were no other close acquaintances, - but the principle was sound. Krennic was in his prime, and if Tarkin could not appreciate that, then it would no longer be Krennic’s problem!

The opportunity to finally have a proper discussion came on the Ascension Week, with the added bonus of Krennic being tipsy enough to actually go through with it. The sight of Tarkin on the Empire Day itself in full dress uniform was rather breathtaking, sure, but the man himself was just too aloof, _ apparently _, or at least for Krennic. 

Really, they finally were in one room - granted, the amount of sentients present alone might have driven someone to a panic attack, - but that was _ Grand Moff Tarkin! _ If he wanted something done, then he did it! So since in the first couple of hours there was no attempt at even greeting each other, then Krennic was right to call the whole thing finally off.

It might have been the alcohol speaking, might have been the presence of several known gossipers, Motti first and closest, - but Krennic actually rejected the first idea, namely, to throw the ring back into Tarkin’s face, and lurked at the periphery of Tarkin’s circle of sycophants until he was certain that Grand Moff smiled in his direction and not just smirked at someone’s joke. 

Then Krennic made his way towards private rooms - turning around every now and then to make sure that Tarkin followed him and wasn’t hijacked by some other wannabe officer. Tarkin did follow - even rather briskly ended a conversation with Veers, and Krennic was almost certain they were really friends, - so the director acquired another glass just to feel less bad about what he wanted to do. 

The rooms were upstairs, available once one got a key card - a way to show that no one would look at who was meeting whom, as if Krennic believed that! - and Tarkin managed to catch up just as Krennic finished choosing a suite.

“Not willing to mingle this time?“- Tarkin’s breath smelled of alcohol and he actually hugged Krennic slightly: a sure sign of inebriation. Or longing…

“Not really. I think we need to talk,” - Krennic strode into the main room, all done in various shades of green. It looked like a swamp, but that really fit the whole idea of getting officially separated. Or what did they call it on Eriadu?

“About what?” Tarkin stood at attention, yet his eyes kept on looking all over Krennic.

_ As if there was anything new! _

Krennic took a deep breath and barely stopped himself in time. Now was not the time for petty squabbles, given that those always ended up with them fucking. One does not fuck with someone he is about to dump, after all.

“Given all the lack of attention and even proper communication in the last month,” - Krennic saw how Tarkin’s brows knit together, and tried to get his point across as clearly as possible, “I want a divorce!”

“But we are not even married!” Tarkin, as usual, latched onto the wrong aspect.

“And whose fault is that? I’ve accepted your ring!” Krennic almost tore the glove in his haste to show the almost offending (but really rather stylish) silver band. “And you never even wear the one I gave you in return!”

“Oh,” instead of at least arguing Tarkin looked as if he was going to melt from adoration, which was not a good look on Tarkin, Krennic’s love for the man notwithstanding. “You should have called. I know a number of ministers on Eriadu, it could be made official in practically a heartbeat. Or a couple of days,” Tarkin somehow ended up much closer than he was, so the last words were practically whispered in Krennic’s left ear. “And I’m not a jewellery person, I thought you knew that.”

Krennic felt his knees turn to jelly just from the sound of Tarkin’s whisper. But the problem was not… not really the one Tarkin wanted to resolve, even if finally sharing the Grand Moff fortune might be quite useful.

“Will it make you holo in more often?” Krennic put his hands on Tarkin’s chest: it was comfortingly warm and solid. “Will we see each other more? Because if not…”

“I will make an effort. And married officers are entitled to at least one shared shore leave, I think,” Tarkin carefully lifted Krennic’s right hand to his lips and kissed the ring. “Although I don’t think even I can drag you away from your work,” his breath teased at Krennic’s sensitive inner wrist and the director made a decision.

“You are welcome to try,” Krennic ruffled Tarkin’s graying hair with his left hand. “Starting from now. After all,” he licked his lips, “I’m entitled to a propel trial at this marriage thing, _ right?” _


End file.
